Truth and Sparta Read online

  “We must go to the Menares estate and collect wood for the bridge he wants built. We might as well drop off the barley in the process. You will both have to help,” Chara’s father urged both her and her brother up on the cart. They trundled along the road to the Menares estate as the slow pace of the oxen’s leisurely stride.

  Chara took a moment to relax in the warm breeze on top of the cart. For once there was nothing to do but to wait for the oxen to reach its destination. The Menares estate was on a hill overlooking the surrounding countryside so they could keep an ever-present eye on the village further down on the plain.

  They finally arrived in the courtyard at the center of the house. It was busy due to the harvest, there were villages unloading a good proportion of their harvest as they were required to, while house servants were taking count and informing the elder Menares of the crops that were coming in.

  The Helots that served the family were generally no friend to the Helots that served the fields—they saw themselves as better. They also had the possibility of being freed as recognition of good service, which was a fate that was never extended to the Helots in the fields. There was no love lost between the two forms of slaves on the larger Menares estate—there was suspicion on both sides. The divided loyalties of the house serving Helots were always questioned and resented by the villages, as they served in many capacities, including as companions and lovers to the Spartans.

  “What are you bringing?” a deep demanding voice stated behind Chara’s back—making her jump. Chara turned to see what could only be the son—Nicias. His bearing proved it if nothing else. He had long golden hair that curled and is flowed down to his shoulders. His skin had seen many hours of sun and his soldier’s physique showed through the plain tunic he wore, a new, clean tunic, but not a highly decorated one of a married man.

  “Barley,” Chara’s father answered as the Spartan eyed their harvest suspiciously. He looked them over before waving them toward one of the courtyard’s corners. They were obviously supposed to unload their barrels of barley there. Her father complied without pause. Chara kept her head down throughout the encounter, silently urging her brother to behave. She could feel his tension rising the moment they’d been approached by the soldier.

  Chara knew that the man that had just interrogated them was an accomplished killer, and he had served in the Spartan army for many years. He could probably take on everyone in this courtyard and be the one that walked away. He had his sword in his belt, but he would likely be just as deadly without it.

  Doros put his anger into the work of unloading their cart. A servant was counting the barrels while Menares sat in a chair and kept record. The son had returned to a spot in the shade where he was eating some fruit in his hand and observing the activity in the courtyard. Chara busied herself helping her father. The sooner they could get out the better. It was not pleasant coming to the Menares estate, and there was always the risk that the residents would take offense to something and enact punishment.

  Chara felt like she was being observed; it was an uncomfortable feeling. She felt the eyes of the Spartan soldier standing in the shade on her. She wasn’t sure if it was true or if she was imagining it, but she wasn’t about to look. Once they had unloaded, her father went to talk to someone about the wood they were to carry away with them.

  Chara busied herself with getting water for the oxen. Her father returned before long.

  “You should go now,” he said quietly to her.

  “But we haven’t started loading the wood.”

  “I said now, girl. Walk back now.” She placed the pail of water she had been holding for the beast on the ground and looked around quickly to see that her suspicions were true—the Spartan was observing her. She kept her head down as she started walking to the gate of the courtyard. She didn’t look back, just kept on walking just as her father had asked.

  Chapter 3

  Chara walked briskly out of the courtyard and through the gardens of the Menares villa. She kept going, walking through the tall grass of the fields further away. It would take her a while to get back home, but her father had been adamant she leave. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but she knew in her gut it had something to do with Nicias.

  He was menacing as he stood in the shadows, watching everything. Chara had felt his eyes, but she’d not grown concerned like her father had. She wasn’t sure why she had to leave that very second—she hadn’t seen anything that would be cause for concern. He hadn’t approached her or spoken to her, but then she didn’t really know the threat her father feared—the Spartan did nothing more than watch while he ate. She also didn’t get a chance to look at the garden surrounding the house. It was the only garden she had ever seen and the beauty of it had astonished her, as did the apparent lack of purpose. It was just there to be beautiful and nothing more.

  She kept a relentless pace, but it didn’t entirely account for her rapid heartbeat or the shakiness she felt, like she had been confronted with something deadly. Spartans were dangerous, but she hadn’t technically been confronted by either him or his father.

  There was no doubt that he was different from the men she knew—he was certainly different from her late husband. He didn’t have the gawky frame of a youth, like her husband, who had been nineteen and the same age as her. From what she knew, she wasn’t sure the Spartans ever were slim and gawky; they worked on their skills and strength from when they were boys. Nicias wasn’t a boy, being of marriage age, which made him quite old. He must be past twenty five at the very least.

  Chara wasn’t an innocent, she’d been married and she knew what happened between men and women, so she had some idea of what her father feared. Coupling with a Spartan seemed well outside the realm of possibility and she could in no way see the movement from the point where she stood watering the ox, to one where she was with him in such an intimate way. There was no path of progression that she could see; although the thought of it sent a thrill of fear through her. It was even scary thinking about it, which she shouldn’t.

  It didn’t matter—likely she would never see him again. Her father was being overly precautious, fearing that the Spartan might take a liking to her. They did take Helot women for their purposes as far as she understood, but she couldn’t see that as something happening to her. Besides, it might have been something very far from what the Spartan was actually thinking. She dismissed the incident.

  The memories of being with her husband seemed to flow into her mind in its place. She knew that men enjoyed the act, but she also knew that it wasn’t her than her husband’s eyes were following; it was a young man in the village who drew her husband’s attention whenever he was close. It wasn’t an act she particularly enjoyed, but she also knew there was something in it, something she wasn’t privy to and she could perceive the absence of it.

  Her husband would perform his husbandly duties on occasion, but it was not often. Along with his family, he was also increasingly dismayed with her failure to fall with child. He was growing increasingly irritated with her and it had hurt her. She had prayed to Hera to help her conceive, but her prayers had gone unanswered. Then her husband had grown sick and died, and before long, she had been suspected as the reason for it.

  Her father and brother returned as she was helping her mother grind some barley for their bread that evening.

  “We are to start building the bridge this evening,” he said as he put the oxen away in his closure.

  “You were provided with wood then?” she asked.

  “You are to stay away from the Spartan,” he father said quietly as he lifted the gate into place. “Both of them.”

  “Yes father,” she said. “I am sure you worry for nothing. Besides, he will be gone soon.”

  “Still, do not approach him.” He smiled in the way that always reassured her and she nodded.

  She forgot about the incident over the next few days as life carried on as normal. She was on her way to see Della as she walked through the village.
Her mother had asked her to get some seeds from one of the elderly women and Chara chose to simultaneously deliver a portion of cheese from their goats which Della always seemed to enjoy.

  She stopped in her tracks as she walked around the corner of the street and found the Spartan turning and looked her away. He didn’t look friendly, but he didn’t look over aggressive either.

  He was between her and the way she needed to go to get to her friend’s house. What was he doing there? Chara thought. Spartans never came to the village, well that wasn’t true, they came to search for someone, or to terrorise, but they came in numbers looking for dissidents or troublemakers. They had burnt the village to the ground once, and over the years they’d eliminated anyone with leadership qualities amongst the ranks of the Helots. Young men were found murdered somewhere in the fields, discarded and left for the birds to peck at before anyone found them. But he was here alone—not that it would really make a difference, he was more capable of destruction than the whole village put together.

  She considered turning and walking back the way she’d come, or alternatively, she could walk past him, ignore his presence and continue as she intended to. It angered her that she would cower and change her plans just because a Spartan happened to be in her path. It wasn’t like they were engaging in meaningful discussion—she was just walking past.

  She mustered her resolve and continued walking. The road was big enough that she could comfortably walk past him. She felt a stab of uncertainty as his eyes followed her again as she stepped closer, moving as far away to the other side of the street as she could manage as she approached him. He didn’t move to make way or to acknowledge her passing.

  Chara felt his presence intensely—he was so big and foreign. His skin was golden from many hours of sun and it complemented his golden hair, his arms were knotted with muscles and sinew, and his legs were more muscular than anyone she’d seen. He wasn’t someone who was naturally a big barrel of a man—his size was from constant training and strengthening. There was nothing soft about him and that included the features of his face, his strong jaw and high cheekbones complementing the straight brow.

  “What is your name?” he asked, his voice deep and commanding. Chara faltered. She looked around to see if anyone was there to help her. She felt a sense of panic, but also pride and defiance. She hated that she was intimidated. He might be a soldier, but he was just a man. He had no reason to harm her or to engage with her for that matter. “Tell me,” he ordered.

  “Chara,” she said not making eye contact with him.

  “Chara,” her repeated. “A pretty name.”

  “Thank you,” she said and then kept moving. He made no attempt to stop her. She could feel his eyes on her back. It was unnerving the way he watched people, she decided—like a snake that tried to mesmerize its victim. She wondered if she’d actually become mesmerized if she looked in his eyes—she wasn’t going to take the chance. She didn’t believe he’d actually inflict harm to her; she hadn’t gotten that feeling, but he did pose a danger. His interest may not be beyond how he normally looked at people, but she felt the intensity of his attention.

  She looked back briefly as she walked around the corner of a building. He was still there, silent and watching—completely unnerving her. She exhaled a long ragged breath when he was out of sight. She almost felt a bit light headed with the release of tension as she continued to Della’s house. She decided she was not going to tell anyone about it; it wasn’t as if something happened, she’d just walked past a Spartan, so she wasn’t sure why she felt like she had been in a dangerous situation.

  Nicias watched the girl walk around the corner. He could feel her fear like a tangible presence. He could also see curiosity in her. He’d seen her the other day; her form and face had attracted his attention. Her hair had the same tawny color as her skin and her clothes didn’t hide the slim waist and pleasing curves. Her smooth skin and the full inviting lips had also not gone unnoticed.

  It had been much too long since he’d been with a woman—months of campaigning left little time for such pursuits. He could always slake his hunger on the Helot woman in his father’s house that had served his needs when he was younger and visiting, but he wanted something new. As if the gods had answered his prayers, she came along sitting in the back of a cart, being hauled out before him like a present.

  He didn’t know the Helots accompanying her—she was obviously one of them, which excited him because that meant she was easily attainable. It would be more difficult if she was the daughter of a free born, but she was a slave and he could do whatever he wanted with her. Even better had been the realisation that she looked like the people she was with, which meant she was with her family and not married. It wouldn’t have been a big impediment if she had been married, it would just make things a little messier.

  Her family must have perceived the directions his thoughts were going because they’d chased her away as fast as she’d arrived. He’d forgotten her again, but she had crept back into his mind later that evening when the night was growing quiet and the heat was dissipating, leaving his body with the slow burn of pent up tension. He would have found her then if he’d known where to; instead he’d just tried to will away the restlessness in his body.

  The restlessness was still there in the morning and he had left the house with no particular intention; perhaps just to survey the state of his father’s land. His father was getting old and his joints made it more difficult for him to get around his own estate. He would help as much as he could, but his stay was short and he would soon need to head back up to Attica to continue the war with the cowardly Athenians who hid behind their walls.

  He’d ended up in the Helot village. The Helots were never friendly—base and drab creatures on the whole. He had some awareness that he was seeking the girl, and again the gods had thrown her in his path. She feared him as she should. He had her name now, and he could get her whereabouts easily if he wanted to. The servants at the house would know where she was or they could find out for him without much effort.

  Chapter 4

  The rest of the barley crop needed to be harvested, backbreaking work compounded by the fact that they had to work in the evening as well, where Chara was needed to keep the fires burning to provide light. It wasn’t difficult work like the harvesting, but she was extra tired today as she hadn’t received enough rest the last few evenings. The sun was also beating down on them with force.

  They would have a short respite after the barley harvest before the next crop needed to be sown. She looked forward to the short period in between where they could rest and recuperate briefly; although here was a good chance that they would just have to build the bridge during the day as well. Chara hoped not, but knew better.

  A small cracking noise distracted her and she looked over to the edge of the field where a man was sitting on a horse watching them. She was surprised to see someone there, then grew apprehensive when she noticed that it was Nicias.

  She looked around but no one else noticed the Spartan watching them. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, whether she was supposed to acknowledge him in some way or to ignore him and return to her work. She decided to ignore him and returned her attention to what she was going.

  When she looked up a short time later, he was still there, like he was waiting for something. She heard the rasping stop behind her and she turned to see that her father had noticed him too, then her brother.

  Chara didn’t know what to do, or what would happen next. She just waited to follow her father’s lead. She watched as her father tentatively returned to his work and Chara followed suit. She couldn’t hear her brother doing so and was about to turn to him and tell him to work, when the Spartan dismounted and started walking toward them. Chara stopped again as did the rest of her family. Her father took a step forward to meet the Spartan, but Chara stayed where she was. Nicias was looking at her and ignoring her father.

  “Return to your home,” he or
dered pointing at her father and brother. They didn’t move and Chara searched out her father’s eyes. “Now!”

  “If there would be something we could assist you with…” her father started. He still hadn’t moved and the Spartan kept coming. Chara didn’t know what to do. She could see the anger rising in her brother and prayed for him not to do anything stupid. She could see the Spartan’s sword in plain sight.

  “Father?” she said with uncertainty. Her father hesitated—she could see him trying to think of something to do, while her brother stance got more menacing. She knew her brother was getting ready to fight, but Chara knew that none of them could take on the Spartan and survive. He was fully in his right to kill them if they defied him, and even if they managed to subdue him, there would be dire consequences for them. There was nothing her father could do and she knew it.

  “It’s alright,” she said, trying to assure her father. “Go.” Her brother did not look like he was going to back down and Chara tried to non-verbally plead with him. Her father pulled him away by the arm, he wasn’t willing to go, but finally relented. Chara was relieved when they finally walked across the field toward their house, until she realized that she was now alone with him.

  Chara felt her heart in her throat. She wasn’t exactly sure what would happen, but the Spartan was waiting for them to leave. He stepped closer and she had to watch herself not to take a step back. He moved closer still and she lowered her eyes to the ground. She felt his gaze on her form and held her breath. He was so large compared to her—compared to any man she knew.